Chapter 3

A Familiar Face

[Year 2031]

Mario lay sprawled on his small, lumpy mattress, staring at the cracked ceiling of his dimly lit apartment. The faint flickering of a streetlamp outside sent uneven shadows dancing across the walls. The silence had become his only companion over the years, a hollow presence that neither comforted nor disturbed him—it simply was. But when a sudden, sharp knock shattered that stillness, his breath caught in his throat.

His body tensed instinctively.

Who the hell would be knocking at this hour?

His pulse quickened as he turned his head toward the digital clock on his nightstand—11:00 PM. A cold unease settled in his chest, heavier than the loneliness he had grown used to. He didn't talk to anyone anymore. Hadn't for years. No one even knew where he lived. No one except the landlord, and that was only out of necessity.

His instincts screamed at him to ignore it, to stay still and let whoever it was leave. But curiosity gnawed at him, an old habit that refused to die. Slowly, deliberately, Mario sat up, moving as silently as possible. The springs of his worn-out mattress creaked softly beneath his weight. He slid off the bed, bare feet meeting the cool wooden floor, and crept toward the front door.

His heart pounded against his ribs as he pressed himself against the wall beside it. He held his breath, listening.

Nothing. Just the distant hum of the city beyond the apartment walls.

Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw it.

A folded piece of paper lay on the ground just in front of the door.

His breath hitched. A letter?

Mario hesitated, his mind racing through possibilities, none of them good. Finally, he bent down and picked it up, the parchment rough beneath his fingers. This wasn't ordinary paper—this was something else. Something old.

His eyes flickered toward the peephole, and he cautiously opened his front door and leaned forward, peering outside.

Empty.

No footsteps. No lingering presence. Whoever had left it was already gone.

A slow, controlled exhale escaped his lips as he backed away from the door, shutting and locking it with precision before making his way back to his bed. He sat down, his hands unsteady as he unfolded the letter. The inked words stared back at him, written in the native Mushroom language—an ancient dialect, one that had nearly faded into obscurity even among the Mushroom Kingdom's own people.

Yet, despite the years, Mario recognized it.

Toadsworth had taught him the basics long ago. The lessons had been tedious back then, full of long afternoons spent deciphering scripts he never imagined he'd need. Now, those fragmented memories were all he had to go on.

His brow furrowed as he studied the message. At first, the symbols blurred together, foreign and unfamiliar. But then, one by one, they started to make sense.

"If you are who I think you are, you'll be able to read this message.

Meet me inside the abandoned house on the corner of your block in two hours. I will be there for the night and explain everything I know if you come. But the universe needs your help. And there's no one else who can do it this time.

Your friend,

Toadsworth."

Mario's hands trembled as he lowered the letter. A deep, cold weight settled in his stomach.

After six long years… they had found him.

He didn't know how. He didn't know why now.

But they had. And they were desperate enough to reach out under the cover of night.

For so long, he had convinced himself this day would never come. That his past life was truly buried, lost in the wreckage of what once was. But now, in his hands, was proof that the past had never stopped looking for him.

A flicker of something stirred inside him. Something he hadn't felt in years.

Hope.

But then came the fear. The kind that tightened around his throat like a noose.

Rosalina.

Luigi's daughter. The one Bowser had stolen. The one Mario had sworn never to risk.

That was why he had disappeared. That was why he had forced himself into exile, cut off every tie, buried the hero he once was. Because as much as it hurt, staying away was the only way to keep her safe.

And yet… if the universe was at stake… so was she.

If he did nothing, she would be doomed anyway.

Mario closed his eyes and sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. His fingers drifted to the bookshelf beside his bed, where his old red cap sat—untouched, forgotten, a relic of a man who no longer existed.

He picked it up, turning it over in his hands.

The fabric, once so vibrant, was now dulled with dust. He wiped it clean with his sleeve before placing it on his head. A splash of red against the dark, worn-out clothing he had wrapped himself in for so long.

And just like that, he felt it.

The weight of the past. The weight of who he used to be. He knew what he had to do.

The clock ticked away as he sat in silence, watching the minutes crawl forward. He smoked to pass the time, the bitter taste of cigarettes coating his tongue, each drag blending with the stale warmth of a half-empty beer can beside him.

"There's no one else who can do it this time."

The words gnawed at him, burrowing deep into his mind.

What happened to Luigi? Did Bowser get to him?

What about Peach? The Toads?

The questions clawed at the walls he had built around his heart, pulling at old wounds, reopening scars he had forced himself to ignore. For years, he had fought not to care. But the moment he put on that hat, he knew—he never really stopped.

He gritted his teeth, forcing the emotions down.

Toadsworth would explain everything. That much, he had to believe.

But the real question wasn't what had happened.

It was whether he was ready to face it.

The abandoned house stood like a forgotten relic, its wooden frame weathered by time and neglect. The wind howled through shattered windows, rattling the broken panes like whispers of the past. Moonlight filtered in through the gaps in the ceiling, casting fractured beams of silver across dust-laden furniture. The air was stale, thick with decay, the scent of rotting wood mingling with the distant aroma of the city's damp streets.

Mario hesitated at the threshold, his gloved hand resting on the doorframe as a suffocating weight settled in his chest. Worried that this could all still be one of Bowsers elaborate tricks.

He stepped inside. The wooden floor groaned beneath his boots, the sound splitting the silence like a gunshot. His senses sharpened, muscles tensing, the old instinct to fight flickering to life after years of dormancy.

Then, from the far end of the room, a figure moved.

Mario's heart clenched. His body reacted before his mind could, dropping into a defensive stance, fists tightening. His breath was slow, controlled—but his pulse hammered like war drums in his ears. He took another cautious step forward, the tension in his shoulders coiling like a spring.

Then, the figure stepped into the light.

Mario exhaled, his breath escaping rapidly.

It was Toadsworth.

The old steward looked... diminished. The years had not been kind to him—his once-pristine coat was now frayed at the edges, its regal buttons dulled with age. His monocle, cracked at the rim, barely clung to its place. His face, once full of wisdom and authority, was drawn, lined with grief that ran far deeper than time alone could etch.

His shoulders sagged with an invisible burden.

Toadsworth let out a weary sigh, one that seemed to carry the weight of an entire kingdom.

"It's been a long time, old friend."

Mario swallowed hard, stepping closer. "Yeah... it's been a while, Toadsworth."

He forced a small, tired smile. "It's good to see you again."

The old steward shook his head, his expression unreadable.

"As much as I'd love to say the same, Mario—especially after six long years of searching every land, every corner of this world—I simply cannot."

His voice was heavy, his tone hollow.

"For the circumstances we are under are far too detrimental."

Toadsworth sighed deeply, running a trembling hand down his wrinkled face.

"Things have gotten... messy since you left the Mushroom Kingdom." He hesitated, as if choosing his words carefully.

"Bowser has been attacking with full force. We held out for a while, relying on weapons from neighboring kingdoms, trading whatever resources we had left. But..." He trailed off, his eyes darkening.

Mario stiffened. "But what?"

Toadsworth looked at him, the dim light casting deep shadows across his aged face.

"One by one, those kingdoms fell. Bowser consumed them all. And now..."

He let out a long, shuddering breath. "...we have nothing left."

Mario ran a hand down his face, his pulse pounding.

"My god, Toadsworth..."

He shook his head, gripping the back of a nearby chair to steady himself. "I had no idea..."

Toadsworth's expression darkened. "Unfortunately, it gets much, much worse." He hesitated, then exhaled shakily. "I've found you not a moment too soon, Mario… but rather a moment too late."

Mario frowned. "What do you mean?"

The old Toad opened his mouth but said nothing. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, and then, to Mario's horror, Toadsworth turned away—his shoulders trembling.

Then, he wept.

Mario had seen Toadsworth cry before. But never like this.

Never like a man broken beyond repair.

A chill crawled up Mario's spine. "Toadsworth... what happened?"

The old steward turned, his eyes red, his face crumpling beneath the weight of whatever words he had to speak. He tried to steady his breath, but his next words came out hoarse, barely above a whisper.

"Princess Peach is... dead."

Silence.

Mario felt as if the world had tilted, as if the floor beneath him had crumbled away.

His ears rang. His lungs burned, suddenly unable to remember how to function.

He forced out a breath. "Dead?"

The word felt foreign on his tongue, impossible.

"No. No, that's not possible, Toadsworth. She had—she had more 1-Ups in her possession than all the surrounding kingdoms combined!"

Toadsworth wiped his eyes, but his expression remained hollow.

"Bowser took her to the real world." He swallowed hard.

"And he... executed her. He sent the video back to the Mushroom Kingdom as an announcement of his takeover."

His voice cracked. "She's gone, Mario."

Something inside Mario snapped.

His hands clenched into fists, his breath turning ragged. A hot, uncontrollable fury surged through his veins, setting his skin ablaze.

"I don't understand how this could've happened!" he growled, his voice barely above a whisper.

Then, louder, "Why didn't Luigi do anything?!"

Toadsworth exhaled shakily, his gaze dropping to the ground.

"Because, Mario..." His voice wavered.

"Luigi is now part of the problem. Not the solution."

Mario felt a chill creep through his bones. His fury wavered, replaced by something colder.

Darker.

"What are you talking about, Toadsworth?"

The old Toad hesitated before answering.

"There's no easy way to say this."

He took a deep breath. "After your battle with that demonic entity Bowser summoned in the cave... and I presume, the day you vanished... we sent out a massive search party to find you."

Mario said nothing.

"But Luigi?" Toadsworth continued, his voice heavy with regret.

"He wanted nothing to do with it. He kept saying he knew what had happened to you. That there was no point in looking."

Mario's jaw tightened. "What do you mean?"

"I eventually spoke with him," Toadsworth admitted.

"He told me Bowser had... paid him a visit. That Bowser had explained your disappearance." His voice grew bitter.

"Apparently, Bowser convinced Luigi that you were tired of saving this kingdom. That you had abandoned it... abandoned him."

Mario's pulse pounded in his ears.

"No..." He whispered, shaking his head. "No, that's a lie. Luigi wouldn't believe something like that. He knows I would never—"

"Bowser fed him another lie," Toadsworth interjected, his voice laced with bitterness.

"He made Luigi believe you had been mistreating him as your second-in-command. That you had been holding him back. And then…" Toadsworth let out a shaky breath, "...he made Luigi an offer."

Mario's heart dropped to the bottom of his chest.

"What offer?"

"Bowser offered him, what he called, your position, Mario." Toadsworth's eyes glistened with fresh pain.

"He made Luigi his second-in-command."

Mario took a step back, shaking his head violently.

"No…" He whispered.

Toadsworth lowered his head. "Yes."

Mario's chest tightened. His thoughts spiraled in chaos, bouncing off the walls of his mind like ricocheting fireballs.

This can't be happening.

He clenched his fists so tightly that his nails dug into his palms, his breath shallow and uneven.

"No… NO!" His voice broke as it erupted from his throat.

'"Luigi wouldn't—he wouldn't do this!"

Toadsworth stared at him with sorrowful eyes. "I'm afraid he already has."

"Luigi… my own brother…"

Toadsworth took a deep breath before delivering the final blow.

"Luigi is the leader of what was once the Mushroom Kingdom now," he said softly.

"Though it is under Bowser's command." He hesitated, as if dreading the words he was about to speak.

"And nowadays, Mario... he calls himself… Mr. L."

Silence.

The title sent a shiver down Mario's spine.

Luigi… the only family he had left… had sided with the enemy.